It's black in here, blot out the sun
by In Smithereens
Summary: AU, set three years in the future after "The Gift"... Buffy's still dead and Dawn's barely keeping it together... There will be Spawn romance. Rated M for substance abuse, language and self-harm.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Hmm, more angst-y Dawn fic... I own nothing but these sequences of events. Review and give me ideas about where to head this, 'tis being written at 5am so cut me some grammar slack!  
UPDATE: I changed the date so it was three years instead of two, as I made a mistake before :)

She sat leaning against the headstone, hugging her knees. A cigarette was burning between her lips and an empty vodka bottle lay at her feet. Dawn took a drag and her body relaxed once more as the nicotine moved through her system. Wearing black lace tights, motorcycle boots and a baby doll dress she looked like the epitome of misspent youth, the cuts and burns covering her alabaster arms only adding to the cliché.

"Three years," she whispered. "Three years since you killed yourself for nothing." She looked around the abandoned clearing, wondering why her sister's friends weren't there, why no-one even remembered what day it was. She shivered in the cool May air and hugged her knees closer to her. Once again, she let her head loll back against the stone, closing her heavily made-up eyes.

A few minutes later she stood up and gathered her belongings. She began to walk away, rubbing her arms for extra warmth. Once the stone was out of sight she relented and put on the well-worn leather jacket… Buffy's well-worn leather jacket.

As she walked through the abandoned town she puffed on a cigarette and rubbed her wrist against the point of the knife in her pocket. By the time she reached the house she had nicked a vein and blood began to drip down her arm. Summer's blood, Buffy's blood. She bit her lip and opened the door, hoping that the Scoobies had long since gone to bed.

"And tonight Matthew, I'm going to be Courtney Love." Xander said as she passed the living room. She rolled her eyes and continued her walk up the stairs. He persisted,

"Are you not even gonna tell us where you were? Or even make up some lame excuse?"

"It's May 22nd, work it out." She snarled back as she got to the top of the stairs and went into her bedroom, slamming the door. She sat on her bed and began to undress, wincing as she pulled her jacket off her latest wound. Once she was down to her underwear she pulled on a black t-shirt and turned out the light, her skinny frame covered by a sky blue comforter. She took her Discman out from under her pillow, put the headphones in and turned on a CD.

She woke up to a sharp tapping on her window. She got out of bed and opened it, letting the peroxided vampire in.

"Hey Little Bit," Spike whispered, slurring his words. "I went to her grave and you were gone."

"Well, I waited for you for hours," she whispered back, sitting on her bed.

"And it's a school night," he said, sitting next to her. Dawn didn't reply, looking away and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally she sighed and looked at him.

"So, how long are you staying this time?" She asked, pushing her matted hair out of her face. He stared at her for a moment, looking at her spoiled skin and smelling her old scent of almonds, under her new haze of cigarette smoke, perfume and alcohol.

"For a while, I promise. Not like last year." He answered.

"Leave a note, would you? Next time you take off."

"Why, did you miss me?" He smiled, his eyes still fixed on her arms. She looked down and tried to cover herself up, her arms folding around her body.

"Yeah, right," she said hollowly. "It's just… easier when you're around. I have someone else to…" She trailed off.

"Share the blame with." He echoed. She yawned and he took a longer look at her.

"So you went on hunger strike to get through to me?" He asked, trying to sound casual. She looked away and smiled slowly.

"I'm just…. Not so hungry these days." She lied. He thought about arguing with her, wondered why the Scoobies hadn't done anything about… this. But thought the better of it. The girl was obviously exhausted.

"Get some rest 'bit." He said softly, "I'll come and see you at sunset." He took one final look at her and climbed back out of the window.

For a moment, Dawn sat on her bed, wondering if she had dreamt Spike's visit.

She woke up the next morning with the sheets partially stuck to her wrist and a mild hangover. Looking at the clock she quickly dislodged herself, ignoring the throbbing pain and began to get ready for school. After a record-speed shower and quick make-up retouch she put on her usual school outfit of a t-shirt dress, lace tights and motorcycle boots. Checking her make-up once more in the mirror she took a cigarette out of her bag and lit it, blowing smoke at her reflection before she walked out of the room.

She managed to leave the house before Willow could catch up with her and made her way to the top of the street where a beat-up car was waiting (and blaring 90s grunge). She opened the passenger door and slid in, smiling at the dishevelled boy behind the steering wheel.

"We going out tonight?" She asked, exhaling smoke out of the open window. He sped down the streets so fast she kept almost sliding out of her seat; Dawn didn't bother with seat-belts anymore. They discussed their plans for the weekend and he pretended not to look at Dawn's arms. When they stopped in the school parking lot he bought out a small bottle of pills. She smiled and took two of them, washing them down with her light Red Bull. She shuddered as the caffeine and other chemicals washed through her system and got out of the car. As she walked towards the squat school building he put his head out of the window.

"Eat something Dawn. No more of this diet shit." He called, shaking his head at her painfully thin limbs.

"Another day, Ry, I promise." She called back to him as she rolled her eyes. She heard him drive away behind her as she walked into the school, tossing her cigarette towards the parking lot.

The only thing she thought of all day was Spike. She wondered where he had been; what he thought of her; what he was going to do to her; what she should hide from him. She ignored the familiar catcalls of the other students and the concerned words of her teachers. He was back; maybe he had forgiven her…


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: I own nothing and have no money so sue me and have the last thirty-two pence in my bank account!  
Please, give me critique or ideas, I really don't know what I'm going to do with this story.

It was almost nine and Dawn had been waiting for Spike for three hours. She was lying on her bed, listening to a CD and puffing on a cigarette, blowing smoke-rings at the ceiling. For what felt like the hundredth time in the past few hours she looked over at the fluorescent numbers on her alarm clock. 8:49. she sighed and got up, walked over to her closet and began to strip off her adult- friendly outfit of jeans and a long-sleeved top. She selected a black daisy pattern lace dress, combat boots and her leather jacket. She stumbled into the clothes, grabbed her bag and left the room, only pausing to turn on a new CD in her Discman.

She got halfway through the town before realising that she had no idea where she was going. She thought about going by Spike's old crypt and frowned. If he really wanted to see her, he would have shown up. She shivered in her skimpy clothes and walked into a smoke-filled bar. It wasn't one of the one's she, or anyone from her school frequented and Dawn knew that it was riddled with vampires. She felt for the stake in her jacket pocket and went to sit by the bar.

"Jack and Diet Coke." She said to the bartender, an oily looking man, who gave off the air of someone who had been attractive in youth, and had never quite seen himself any other way. He looked her up and down and smiled, taking in the pale skin the dress exposed with its low neckline and high hem. He looked at her face and a flicker of concern registered on his face. Dawn arched her back as she sat on the stool and he shook his head, taking her money and mixing her drink.

"Now, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" Dawn had been sitting un-disturbed for a half-hour and was staring at the bottom of her glass, wondering if she should eat the lurid red cherry at the bottom. She rolled her eyes and looked to the person next to her. He was well-dressed, way too well-dressed to be a Sunnydale native. He was also a vampire.

"Does that line really get you any action?" She asked raising her eyebrows at him and turning back to her drink. He looked at her, his head cocked as if he had heard her wrong and smiled, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"You don't wanna kill me…" She said, looking up at him.

"What?" He spluttered.

"'She's off- limits, mate." Spike said, wrenching the vamp's fingers off Dawn and bending them back until they broke with a wet snap. The vampire looked from Spike to Dawn and walked away, obviously embarrassed.

"Well, that was… pathetic." Spike remarked as he sat down on the now-vacant stool. "I thought we were meeting at the house, Nibblet." He fished the cherry out of her glass and ate it, grimacing at the taste.

"Yeah, at sunset." She looked him in the eyes and, for what seemed like the hundredth time, tried to ascertain whether they were blue or grey. His eyes creased in concern and she looked away, beginning to fiddle with the ring on her middle finger. Finally, Spike said something.

"I was trying to find you somewhere to stay." Dawn looked up abruptly, stood up and bolted for the exit. Spike caught her as she opened the door.

"I'm not going to get locked up," she said through gritted teeth, wriggling out of his grip and running outside and onto the boardwalk. She came to the edge and hoisted herself up to sit on the railings. Spike followed suit.

"'Bit, we just need to get you out of that house." He said, lighting a cigarette for her. She shivered and he stared at her , taking in her skimpy outfit, translucent skin and the way her kneecaps were protruding so sharply they looked like they were about to break her skin. He offered her his jacket and she shook her head.

"Wouldn't go with this outfit," she smiled as she ashed her cigarette into the sea.

"Come on, let's go and get something to eat." Spike said, jumping down onto the boardwalk. Dawn shook her head, smiling sadly.

"Why did you come back?" She said, lighting another cigarette. He narrowed his eyes.

"Because I wanted to see you." He answered holding out his hand to help her get down. She smiled again, shaking her head at his hand.

"No, that's not it," she cocked her head. "You didn't care before."

"Dawn, come on, get down and we'll go someplace to talk." He went to grab her hand and she pulled away, swaying slightly.

"No, I'm fine here." She bit her lip and watched him intently. He stared at her, wondering what to do and sighed.

"I'm back, that's all that matters." He said. Once again she shook her head at him.

"Back for what?" She said, narrowing her eyes. "Back to baby-sit me? Back to be my best friend, to watch bad TV marathons and paint our fingernails back? Or back to pull that twisted, sexual tension 'you want me because I remind you of her but when we finally kiss you disappear like you're suddenly overwhelmed with the same catholic-guilt crap Angel was so full of'?" She took a long drag of smoke and exhaled towards the sea. This time, he shook his head.

"'Bit, you know I never meant for that to happen, but I need to get you better before we can even think about 'us'…" He said, taking her hand. She gripped onto him and jumped off the railings.

"No facilities, no Scoobies and no doctors… just me and you?" She said, looking at him carefully. He felt himself ache with concern for her, seeing this broken-down girl look at him with the same eyes that watched her sister die, saw her mum dead in the hospital morgue. Despite his better judgement he sighed and agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the scenarios... I also have less than 40 pence to my name so suing me would be rather pointless.

This chapter is rather short, but I wanted to talk about all of Dawnd 'problems' in one fell swoop. As always, review and give me ideas!

When they got into the room in the Downtowner motel Dawn sat down on the single bed nearest the door and began to take off her boots. Spike stopped her, grabbing her wrist.

"What?" she said, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. He let go of her and sat down on the chair next to the bed, not taking his eyes off her.

"Before I decide to do this, I need to know." He said evenly, "I need you to tell me everything."

"What?" She repeated, reaching into her bag, taking out her almost empty pack of cigarettes and lighting one. He moved the chair closer to her.

"Everything you do… Everything we need to deal with. No secrets." He said, lighting a cigarette and looking into her eyes. Dawn took a deep drag and her forehead creased with concern. She sat for a few seconds with the cigarette almost slipping out of her mouth as she thought about what he said. Finally she took another drag and ashed the cigarette into the ashtray Spike held out to her.

"I don't know where to start, or where anything began… I just know that ever since I can remember I've wanted to change my brain, change my mental state. Like when I was little I was the biggest daredevil at my school, chasing an adrenaline rush. And then when I was eleven I started doing solvents, you know, huffing them. 'cause it was cheap and with enough I would eventually pass out. And then I started drinking… It was like a game of who could be more grown up, or who could take more. And it was always spirits, I don't think I ever started with beer or wine or anything. Then when we were thirteen everyone started smoking, cigarettes and weed. And I loved it, the taste, how it looked. But with the whole Key thing everything changed… I got a taste for self- harm when I cut myself to see if I was 'real'… no, that's not right, I always used to pick scabs 'till they bled when I was little, or I would touch the stove for a couple of seconds, just for the rush. But I guess I started calling it self- harm then. I started with shallow cuts and eventually started sawing right through veins and down to my bones. Or I would burn myself on cigarettes, or incense. But now, not so much. Beyond the stinging when I break the skin, I don't feel it anymore… I just saw and saw until I can barely see the knife and have to spell my skin shut. That's how I get away with doing my arms, there's a glamour on them, unless you look for scars, you don't see them. Not eating started about when mom died as well. I just stopped getting hungry and lost weight, and then I started to eat again and gained it all and then some… So I just stopped again. But I'm not anorexic or anything; I know I'm skinny. I like my body like this. Like I'm not a drug addict… I just do them to get out of my head, hard, soft, whatever I can get." She stopped and lit another cigarette, yawning, with a sad smile on her face. For the whole time Spike hadn't taken his eyes away from hers, an expression of concern tinged with guilt on his face.

"And your friends?" He said, "They don't try to help you?" Dawn shook her head, taking a drag of her cigarette.

"What could they do?" She said, "I don't exactly socialize with well- rounded people… They worry, sure, but we all have our own shit to go through. We just hold on to each other."

He took her hand, placing their cigarettes in the ashtray.

"Dawn, I'm going to help you. Not because of Buffy, or because I feel guilty… Because you deserve better." He said. "We both deserve better." He observed, looking around the motel room and down at their hands- her freezing cold, translucent skinned hands with fingernails painted with red polish, decorated with colder metal rings and his own familiar ones. He let go of her and she began to take off her boots and slip beneath the covers of the bed.

"We're going to get better, Spike." She whispered as she laid her head on the pillow and he turned off the harsh overhead lights.

That night, he didn't move from her bedside, just sat there, smoking cigarette after cigarette and stroking her hair. By dawn he had come to an interesting conclusion. This was the real deal… not the unobtainable infatuation he had had with Buffy… He was in love with the tiny figure breathing shallowly in the bed, her hair spread across the pillow and her features knitted in a look of hurt even as she dreamt.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the reviews! I'm ill at the moment so updating is hard but I'm hoping to put another chapter up tonight.  
As always, BTVS is owned by Joss Whedon, I have no money so suing me would be pointless anyway. The poem used in this chapter is called "Since feeling is first" and was written by E.E. Cummings- one of my favourite poets.  
Review and give suggestions, ask me to explain things that aren't clear or even tell me off for being innacurate. Enjoy.

At dusk, Dawn got out of the bed and went to take a shower; Spike dozed in the chair, trying to watch the door as he half-slept. He watched steam coming out from under the door as he drifted back to sleep, satisfied that she wouldn't try to run. When he awoke he looked at his watch, it was eight o'clock and there was still steam streaming from the door. He walked over to it and put his ear against the badly-painted wood veneer. All he could hear was the running water, it didn't sound as if anyone was moving around in there.

"Bit?" He called. There was no response. Spike didn't think as he broke the door open with his shoulder. Inside the bathroom, the water was running on full blast and he could barely see in front of him for the steam. It cleared and he saw her. Dawn was lying unconscious on the floor, the shower curtain half wrapped around her pale body and one foot hooked painfully up around the tub. His mind raced… he could hear her breathing, see the shallow rise and fall of her chest but she didn't flinch when he leant down and picked her up, trying to avert his eyes. He carried her out of the bathroom and onto her bed, ignoring how wet his clothing and the bed was getting, as an afterthought, he lifted her head and placed a towel beneath it, letting her wet hair splay on it. Once he covered her with the bedclothes he paused, wondering what to do next, then he remembered her leg, red and blue beneath the sheets. He leant down to shake her and her eyes fluttered open.

"Spike?" she said groggily, trying to lift her head. Swiftly, he got another pillow and placed it under her head, propping her up.

"Hey, thought I was going to have to call an ambulance for a minute there." He said, smiling down at her.

"My ankle hurts," she said, her forehead knitted in pain. "I fell."

"I think you did more than that, Bit." He said gently. "You were unconscious."

She shook her head "I must've bumped my head when I slipped."

"We both know it was more than that." He said, looking into her eyes. The regarded each other for a moment, neither sure what to say next. Finally, Dawn sat up.

"I think my ankle might be broken."

"We'll go to the hospital, I can carry you. It's only a few blocks." He said, turning around as she began to root around the bed for her clothes.

"Thanks Spike" she said as she dressed.

When they arrived at the hospital there was a long wait to be seen by someone. Spike tried to protest, insisting that Dawn needed help right away, but was shot down by the world-weary admissions nurse.

"It's Sunnydale, a lot of people need to be seen right away."

So they took a seat by the ancient vending machines. Dawn leant on Spike's shoulder and began to slowly pull the stuffing out of the cracked vinyl seats.

"I saw your tattoo," he said finally, looking at the top of her head. She moved away from him.

"What?"

"The big one, on your stomach. It was kinda hard to miss." He replied. She sighed.

"Did you like it?" She said, trying to avoid actual conversation. He picked up on this and said

"It was pretty, and apt, you being a key," he started. "But I didn't understand the whole belly button thing."

"Because I was never a foetus, never for real… it was just the fact that I was the Key. So the Key is supposed to be like a foetus growing inside of me… If that makes sense." She said, looking down at her stomach, covered in her black dress.

"Got any more, any more piercings I should be aware of?" He said in a lighter tone.

She looked up at him, not sure why he wanted to know, why he wasn't mad about anything.

"Um, on my back. I have lettering. And you've seen my belly. I had my tongue pierced for a while, just to see if Buffy would notice." She tried to appear nonchalant.

"What's it say?" Spike asked, wondering why he hadn't noticed.

"Since feeling is first. The title of the E.E. Cummings poem."

"Any meaning behind that one?"

"Just that I like the poem, and agree with what it means, or what it means to me."

"How does it go?" He asked. She hesitated for a moment but recited.

"since feeling is first /who pays any attention /to the syntax of things /will never wholly kiss you; /wholly to be a fool /while Spring is in the world  
my blood approves, /and kisses are a better fate /than wisdom /lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry /—the best gesture of my brain is less than/ your eyelids' flutter which says  
we are for each other: then /laugh, leaning back in my arms /for life's not a paragraph /And death i think is no parenthesis"

He thought about it for a minute.

"So it's about not controlling emotion. Not tying yourself down to the world." He said. She smiled.

"Pretty much… I think, anyway."

"Dangerous thing though, freedom. Lack of control." He remarked.

"It's better than being caged, it feels better." She said.

They both thought about that for the rest of their wait.

"Nothing's broken, just a bad sprain. You'll be on crutches for a week, and I'll write you a note excusing you from PE for the rest of the semester." The doctor said, what felt like hours later. They excused themselves and went back to the motel, Dawn hobbling on crutches.

When they arrived back at the motel Spike but a can of Diet Coke next to Dawn's bed and told her to drink it before she slept.

"I'm going to get some of your stuff." He said

"Shouldn't I come?" She said, putting her jacket back on. He shook his head and pocketed their room key.

"I'm going in through the window, just to get you some clothes and that." He replied "Anything in particular you need?"

"I dunno, just jeans and sneakers I guess, and my grey Brown hoodie… The college, not the colour. And some decent shampoo." She said, taking off her boots.

She sent him out with a list of clothing, schoolbooks and toiletries that she needed. When she could no longer hear his footsteps she took of her clothes and got into bed, swigging from the can of Coke he had left. When she lay down to sleep it struck Dawn that she only had a week left of classes before the summer. She wondered what she would be doing…


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I had to go into hospital. As always review and give ideas (or constructive criticism).  
The Buffyverse is owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy et al. Sue me and get all of the 31 pence in my bank account!

They spent Sunday playing cards with the curtains drawn and going out to the vending machine in the hall for more cigarettes and Diet Coke. When it came to the evening, the conversation turned to school.  
"I can ask Ryan to pick me up." She said, her hands on her hips, looking so much like her younger self.  
"I'd feel a whole lot better if you'd let me order you a cab." Spike said, irritated.

"It'll look more normal if I go my normal way. He'll even help me up the steps if that's what you're worried about." Spike raised his hands, signalling defeat and Dawn grinned. He smiled at this but taking a closer look at her face frowned. She wasn't wearing any make-up and without the racoon smudges beneath her eyes looked more her age, but he couldn't help but notice the bluish circles under her eyes and a faint blue tinge to her lips. He vowed to try and look into ways to help her. He wondered how late the Sunnydale Public Library was open.

The next morning Dawn showered and dressed in her faded blue drainpipe jeans and a purple Idiot Pilot tee. She slid her feet into purple flip flopped and hobbled out of the door, her messenger bag over her shoulder and her sunglasses on top of her head. After a short wait (and a few cigarettes) she was in the car with Ryan, making the all-too familiar journey to school. He didn't ask many questions, just asked about her ankle and what she had done at the weekend. She answered truthfully, trying to avoid more probing questions and was relieved when they reached the school. True to her word, she let him help her up the steps and limped to her first class.

The day was uneventful, she had taken all of her finals and none of her teachers bothered to hold proper classes, most showed films, the more artsy ones asking for compositions of their choice. Dawn spoke to few people, not involved in the chatter around her about summer vacation plans and talk of their upcoming senior year. Ryan collected her at the final bell (he went to Kent Prep. and got out earlier than her) and she persuaded him to drop her off at the house, just so she could pick up 'a few things'.

Five minutes later she was sitting on her bed with her head in her hands, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. What was she doing? Did she really think she'd be able to live with Spike? That he wouldn't eventually figure her out and drop her… Here she was, packing her life, everything she cared about and couldn't bear to let go, into a gym bag when she knew that she would be back soon… Because it wouldn't work. Spike was kidding himself into thinking he could 'save' her and she was letting him, whoring herself out emotionally for company. She wiped her face roughly with the back of her hands and stood up, wincing in pain before she picked up her crutches.

She went through into Willow's bedroom and began to root through her spell books; finally she found the spell she was looking for. A Spider Healing spell. She gathered up the ingredients of Angelica Root and Horehound and took them, with a burner, chalk and crystals into her bedroom. Once she came back into her room she sat down on the floor, drawing and invoking a circle around her, placing the burner in front of herself and holding a chunk of nanite to her wounded leg. She lit the herbs and recited the invocation, feeling the pain rush out of her body and her ankle knitting itself back together. When the herbs were fully burnt, she released the circle and stood up, happy that her leg was healed. She shoved the crutches into a corner and carried on packing, unsure of what to do next.

When she returned to Ryan's waiting car she had two gym bags slung over her shoulder and was dressed in a purple and white striped vest top with braided purple straps and a ripped denim mini skirt. On her feet were a pair of beat-up tan cowboy boots and she was wearing a green canvas army-issue jacket.  
"Any end of school parties tonight?" She asked, sliding into the passenger seat and shoving her bags under the back seats. He lit a cigarette for her and passed it to her as he thought, looking her up and down suspiciously.  
"Some girl, Amber I think, is having a party at her parent's house by the beach. Should see some people there." He smiled, starting the cars engine and letting it roar down the quiet street. "You want to drop your stuff off first?"  
"No," Dawn said, dragging deeply from the cigarette. "Let's go to yours."

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing videogames and chain-smoking in his bedroom. His mother hovered outside the room, coming up with excuses to check up on them every half hour, sending them into frenzies of putting out their cigarettes, stuffing the ashtray under the bed and spraying air-freshener in the room. Ryan's dad was an oncologist and his parents tried to pretend that they didn't notice him smoking.

Secretly, Dawn was jealous of him, his parents really cared, really wanted to know what was going on with him, even if they tried to ignore what he did half of the time. She missed that kind of thing. Lying to her mom about going to parties, her mom pretending not to know when, after 'staying with Janice' for a weekend , she had spent a day in bed with a raging hangover, going along with Dawn's story about food poisoning. After their mom had died Buffy had tried her hardest, but a twenty year old really didn't know how to parent a teenager, no matter what her best intentions were. And her dad was hopeless, once she told him about Buffy's death he had swept into town, taking over the Summers' house and trying to make up for lost time with his remaining daughter by giving her a generous allowance and no curfew. It only took a few months before he got bored and left, claiming that his work needed him in San Diego and asking Willow to look after Dawn. He sent Willow money for food and bills each month and Dawn had pretty-much free range with a credit card but it didn't make up for the fact that, at seventeen, she was basically an orphan. A spoilt orphan but an orphan nonetheless. _I really need to get wasted. _She thought to herself, watching her car go up in flames during the racing game they were playing.

When they got to the girl, Amber's, house Dawn went straight to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of vodka, and slugged from it until the world was softer. Then, teetering a little, she went into the backyard to see the other partygoers. When she got there she smiled, the house even had its own private walkway down to the beach. When she got to the steps she sat down on one of them, leaning against the stone pillar next to it and lighting a cigarette. As she exhaled into the night air a guy sat down next to her.

"Nice tattoo" he said, gesturing to her bare shoulder, revealed by the oversized jacket slipping off one shoulder.  
"Thanks" Dawn said, looking over briefly to meet his eyes before turning back to the ocean, taking another deep swig from the bottle.  
"What happened?" He asked.  
"What makes you think anything's wrong?" She smiled, taking a drag from her cigarette and turning to him. He cocked his head and looked into her eyes.  
"When a girl with EE Cummings quotes tattooed onto her is sitting away from her friends at a party, chain smoking and drinking from a bottle of Absolut, there's usually something wrong."  
"Really?" She smiled.  
"Really. I'm Adam, by the way." He said, "So, if you're not going to tell me what's wrong, you've got to tell me something."  
She smiled again, offering him the bottle. He accepted and took a swig. "Like what?" She said, flicking her hair out of her eyes.  
"Let's see… Do you have any other tattoos?"  
"Only one." She replied, lighting another cigarette and offering one to him. He declined and moved closer to her.  
"May I see it?" He asked.  
"I guess," she shrugged, lifting up the hem of her top so that her stomach was exposed. His eyebrows creased as he looked and he stared at it for a minute before looking back up at her. She smoothed down her top and took a drag of her cigarette.  
"You don't like it?" She asked.  
"No, that's not it." He shook his head. "I've just never seen a girl as skinny as you."  
"Right," she said, turning away from him and taking a swig of the vodka.  
"What does it mean?" He said. "It isn't a pregnancy thing, is it?" He said.  
"Close." She replied. "I'm adopted, so it's like I wasn't born. Like I was never a foetus. I was just there, instantly into a family. You're perceptive, though." She smiled. He looked into her eyes.  
"You know your birth parents?" He asked. She thought about making up another lie but simply said.  
"Nothing to know, they didn't want me, I wasn't supposed to be born so I was dumped." She said, trying not to outright- lie. "What about you?" She asked, avoiding further questions.  
"What about me?" He said, drinking some more of the vodka.  
"Any tattoos? Any deep dark secrets to share with strangers?" She smiled.  
"I have a crow, across my back. And sorry, my childhood was normal." He said. When he made no move to show her his tattoo she said.  
"So why are you here? Why are you drinking from a bottle of Absolut away from your friends?"  
"Because I made myself a promise that I would get to know the girl in the corner." He replied.  
"Oh, do you need info on her or something?" She smiled and looked into his eyes.

At that moment he moved closer to her and took her cigarette, throwing it down towards the beach and moving the hair out of her face. She moved into him, kissing him and tasting the liquor in his mouth. They kissed for a full five minutes, him pushing her towards the pillar and her tangling her fingers in his hair. After that, when she started to move his shirt up, he lead her back into the house and into one of the bedrooms. Wordlessly, she went along with everything, the liquor dulling her inhibitions enough that she didn't have to think about Spike.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Sorry about the sporadic updates... I'm supposed to be revising! Review, please :)  
Disclaimer: Mutant Enemy owns all... Don't sue me. There is a Girl, Interrupted ref. in the chapter... I don't own that either!

When she woke up she was alone on an unfamiliar bed. Her underwear, skirt and boots were on the floor next to her and her top was pulled up, showing her black lace bra and tattooed stomach. The sheets were covering her, giving her some kind of modesty. She dressed quickly and looked around for her cigarettes. She found them on the bedside table and lit one, contemplating what she had done. Now she was sober she was uneasy with what she had done. It wasn't the sex, not even the fact that he was all but a stranger (had she even told him her name?), but the feeling that she had betrayed Spike in doing it. She scoffed at herself. Spike didn't want her. He just felt some sense of duty towards her.

She sat and contemplated this for a moment, looking around the room in the dim light. Finally, she looked at the clock. It was only a little past midnight; she could still go back to the motel. What could Spike really do to her? _He could send me back to Revello Drive, and the Scoobies. _She thought miserably. She smoked the cigarette down to the filter and lit another one, taking a long drag before she stood up. She dressed quickly and looked into the mirror. With her jacket sleeve she wiped the smudges away from her heavily made-up eyes and licked her lips. She rolled her eyes at her reflection and walked out of the room.

She found Ryan staring wordlessly at a girl dancing by the pool and smoking fiercely, beer cans and cigarette butts littering the ground around his feet. Seeing her, he stood up and took his keys out of his pocket.

"Where to now?" He said, slurring.

"I'll drive you home, and drive over to the motel. You can pick up your car in the morning." She said flatly, taking the keys and making her way through the throng of people to the door and to the car. He followed her, wordlessly.

She drove in silence, a cigarette hanging from her lips. She gave him a nod when she dropped him off and tried to ignore her internal freak-out wondering what Spike was going to do. When she reached the Downtowner, she parked the car near the entrance and took her bags out of the trunk. She struggled with their weight as she walked to their room. She took the brass room key out of her bag and slipped it into the door, as quietly as possible. As soon as the key hit the lock the door swung open and Spike grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her inside and pushing her down to sit on her bed. He took in her bags and dishevelled appearance.

"Were you running away?" He asked, gritting his teeth. Dawn looked up, surprised. She hadn't even thought about it.

"So you packed your bags to go out with your friends?" He asked.

"I just wanted to get my stuff." She said, looking at her feet.

"And your 'stuff' just happened to be in a bar?" He said. She looked up, puzzled.

"I can smell it on you, alcohol, cigarettes…. And boys." He said, slowly. He looked at her guilty face. "You slept with someone?"

"I was drunk…" She said, by way of explanation.

"So one of your friends decided to take advantage?" He asked his hands in fists.

"He wasn't exactly a friend." She mumbled. His heightened hearing picked up on every word and he bit his tongue before he spoke.

"So you had sex with a stranger… And there was alcohol involved. How could you be so stupid?" Spike shouted, making the watercolour picture on the wall jolt.

"I'm a big girl Spike. I can do what I want." She said, gripping her bag handle until her knuckles turned white.

"What were you…Why…? Were you safe, at least?" He spluttered.

"Yes, Spike. I know all about condoms." She rolled her eyes.

He stepped back, wondering what to do next.

"What was his name?" He asked, finally.

"What?"

"What was his name?" He said through gritted teeth.

"His name….?"She trailed off.

"You don't know, do you?" He asked. "You think so lowly of yourself that you didn't even think to ask."

"What?" She stood up and looked him in the eyes.

"You heard me, Dawn. What were you feeling lonely? So lonely that you went out and banged the first body you could find?" He said, returning her gaze. She shook her head.

"So fucking what, Spike? Why shouldn't I? Who exactly am I hurting?" She asked, almost shouting at him.

"You. That's who you're hurting. That's all you ever do. That's why your skin is all sliced up and your stomach is concave. You hurt yourself because, in your messed-up brain, you blame yourself for Buffy's death." He shouted. She walked away from him, her bottom lip wobbling.

"What, is that your diagnonsense? 'Dawn can't deal so she hurts herself'… Profound."

"So why do you do it, Dawn? Why are you fucking killing yourself?" He shouted, sitting down on the bed.

"Yeah, I'm the one killing myself. I am more fucking alive than anyone I know… I can feel more alive than any of them."

"Getting high isn't the same as alive."

"Why? How the fuck would you know? You died a century ago!" She shouted, ignoring the shouts of their neighbours. "Just say it, Spike."

"What?"

"Tell me how, even though you feel bad, you just can't stay with me. Because I'm too messed up. Because everything I touch turns to shit and you don't want to go that way. Tell me about all of the ways I could be helped in a hospital. Tell me what my mom would want, what Buffy would want. Tell me that you don't want to see me die, so you're just going to leave me to die. Come on, Spike!" She shouted, shaking.

"No." He said evenly.  
"Come on, just give it up. Stop pretending that you actually give a shit about me. That you aren't doing this for Buffy."

"I'm not doing this for Buffy."

Tears were running down her cheeks. "Stop lying! Just stop!"

He stood up, walked over to her and roughly wiped her tears away. Then, grabbing her face in his hands, he pulled her into him and kissed her.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I've come to a block about where this story's going, really... Here's a very short chapter that I had already started. Any help would be appreciated!

A few minutes later Dawn was fumbling with her clothes, pulling open buttons and zips. Spike caught her hands and stopped her, taking a step backwards.

"Not tonight," He said, half-whispering. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"But… Don't you want to?" She asked.

"Not tonight… Not with your cheeks covered in black streaks of salt-water and make-up… Not when you have some random's scent all over you." He shook his head. She drew closer to him.

"But he didn't matter… None of that matters. I want to be with you." She whispered, looking him in the eyes. His lips curled up in a half-smile.

"I'm not doing this to be clichéd -romantic, this isn't a noble thing. I just can't do that with you when you're like this. Because it wouldn't be real." She pouted.

"You're going to just deny all of this, aren't you? You're going to blame all of the drink and go back to keeping away from me." She moved away from him and tried to pick up her pack of cigarettes. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, bringing her closer to him.

"We just need to talk about everything, Dawn, get it all out in the open." He sat down on the bed. Reluctantly, she sat next to him, lighting a cigarette.

"Get what in the open? You know that I drink, you know that I have sex…. What is there to talk about?"

"Us, what we really feel… I don't want you to go flying off the handle about Buffy every time we have an argument."

"Is this the part where you tell me how much you loved her? And try to convince me that I'm not the consolation prize?"

"Yes, I loved her…. I loved her so much that it hurt, more than I thought possible for a human, let alone a demon. But it wasn't real… I was in love with what she was. To me she was this strong and feminine and funny thing…. She was an obsession. Not a person." He paused, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. "But you're different… You're so intense and it hurts to look at you sometimes, most of the time, because you're so broken and so sad and no matter how tough you try to be all there is in your eyes is hurt… Even when you smile and you start to look like a normal girl one look in your eyes brings it all back… What she did. And yeah, I wish she hadn't, but some part of me, some twisted part wants you here with me, and I know that that would have never happened if she was still around. You're everything someone shouldn't love, all angles and bruises and hard words but somehow you're magnetic. Buffy was conventional, all femininity and you're the exact opposite. Girls like Buffy, they're good for you, they'll make you happy and make you a better person but you… you make destruction look amazing, you bring out the worst, most self-destructive parts of people… I'm not saying I'm in love with you because of the hurt… It's more that I'm in love with the hurt because of you."


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Thanks for the feedback :) I've kinda figured where I'm going... So thanks for the motivation. Especially to damageddawn, for the thoughts on what Dawn's feeling (I was worried that I was getting kinda one-note and am also getting rather impatient to be writing spawn-love) and Xeelia for the niceness (and the weird mental image of a shirtless Spike caught in one of those huge butterfly nets).  
A non-vague Disclaimer: I own nothing, Joss is God, I spent the last of my money on the My So-Called Life box-set.

"Oh, so this is a self-destruct thing now? You're looking to blame me because you're tempted…. Tempted to do things that go against any kind of a survival instinct?" Dawn said bitterly, she him straight in the eye as she lit a cigarette. He frowned and took her hands in his.

"I'm opening myself up to you and all you can do is go on the defensive? Why the fuck can't you just accept that there are people who aren't looking for an easy way out? That want to help people and be decent…"

"Human beings," Dawn finished for him. "I'm not like my sister… I'm not under any illusion that a demon can have any unselfish thoughts, whether they have a chip or a soul."

"Great Dawn, that's just great… Someone's nice to you, someone thinks about you and you insult them. How the hell do you think that you're going to ever be happy if you carry all of this bitterness around with you?"

"Oh, I'm so fucking sorry that I'm not happy. I'm sorry for being such a burden and I've been so selfish these past three years…. You know I think that this pep-talk was just the thing to make me see the error in my ways. How irrational have I been, feeling sad that my mom died and my sister killed herself because of me?" She shouted, sarcastically.

"We were all there, Dawn. We all felt it." Spike said quietly.

"Yeah, and you all coped… So you disappearing for a year was perfectly rational and Giles drinking alone in his apartment and playing records all night long was normal behaviour long before this all happened. And have you noticed Willow's obsession with resurrection spells, I guess that it's a project for her history course."

"I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry that we haven't been here for you. I'm sorry that I couldn't keep my promises and that I couldn't handle being in Sunnydale. But you have to do something to help yourself! You can't spend the rest of yourself trying to numb all of the hurt inside you until your insides are so rotten that they pack up. If you're not willing to fight for this then there is no point in keeping yourself alive."

"I don't care about all that Spike… I don't care about my stupid body or how other people feel… All I can do is keep on going, 'cause Buffy died for me. And I don't care what I have to do to do that. I don't care that every part of me is screaming at me to end it, that whenever I walk up a staircase or sit on the pier I have to brace myself because I can feel myself falling, have to stop myself from jumping. I don't care. I don't, Spike, because someday it has to get better, and I'll deal and it'll have been worth it." She stopped, tears streaming down her face. He wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face in his chest. "I can't" She murmured.

She woke up the next morning lying on her bed with his arms wrapped around her. Shivering slightly she wriggled away from him and made her way to the bathroom, the vague nausea and headache of a hangover making her stumble a little as she tried to make her eyes and brain focus as they seemed to swim forward at every step. When she came to the bathroom she steadied herself against the sink and looked into the mirror. Her face, though it was normally pale, seemed to be completely devoid of colour, bar the black smudges around her red eyes and watery grey tracks of tears leaving lines down her cheeks. She splashed her face with water and rubbed her remaining eye make-up of as she pushed her matted hair out of her face. She washed on autopilot, trying to concentrate entirely on what she was doing and not what she had said and done the night before. When went back into the bedroom she dressed quickly in jeans and a top, aware that Spike was awake. He watched her with his eyes half open while she towelled her hair dry and applied her make-up. When she picked up her bag he sat up.

"You could miss school, you know. You've only had a few hours sleep." He said. Dawn shook her head at this.

"I don't skip school… And I wouldn't be sleeping if I went to bed now." She said, picking up her copy of the room key and putting it in her pocket.

"We'll go out later. Get some food, maybe go to the mall." Spike said, smiling. Dawn smiled back, remembering all of their trips to the mall the summer after Buffy died, Spike's playful criticism of the clothes she chose and them both inducing sugar comas from trips to the sweet shop.

"You can count on it." She said as she walked out of the door, lighting a cigarette as she shut it behind her.

That morning she was pulled out of her art class by the guidance counsellor. Dawn sat uncomfortably in a chair in front of the counsellor's desk and played with a loose thread in her jeans, not looking at her.

"I've just got your final grades, Dawn. I thought that I would let you know the news early. You managed to get an 'A' in all subjects, and full attendance in each class." She said, smiling.

"Good to know," Dawn said, not wanting to commit to a conversation.

"But we've been worried; you don't seem to be very involved in the school."

"I'm just not into the whole pep-squad 'our school's so great' stuff."

"Which is understandable, but we feel that the problem is bigger than that."

"Who's we?" Dawn said, unable to help herself.

"Your teachers and myself. To put it bluntly Dawn, you don't seem to have any friends. The only time you speak to any other students is when you have to in a classroom."

"I didn't realize that that was something that was affecting my performance at school."

"You're not just at school to learn, Dawn. You're here to make friends, some that will stay with you for life."

"Strange enough, I'm at school to get into college. And stop my dad coming back to town." Dawn said, becoming angry.

"And your behaviour has your teachers worried. Coming in looking exhausted and smelling of cigarettes. Spending your lunch hour chain-smoking with boys from other schools, off- campus."

"I spend my lunch hour with my friends, people that a few minutes ago you were so worried about me not having."

"And you're practically emaciated." The counsellor continued her list.

"So kill me for being skinny." Dawn stared at her in disgust.

"If you need to talk to anyone about what happened…." The counsellor began.

"I'll talk to the shrink that my dad pays two hundred dollars an hour for me to see every other week." Dawn finished for her, itching to walk out of the room. "I look tired because I'm an insomniac, I don't talk to people at this school because I don't particularly want to get to know them, and I make the best grades in my class, why can't I be left alone?"

"You don't have to cut yourself off, Dawn. Sometimes it's worth trying to get more involved."

"And sometimes people can see that there's more to life than high-school drama." Dawn said, standing up and walking away.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: I've actually figured out what I want to do with this story! And yes, it includes some decent Spawnness. There will be actual stufff happening next chapter, not just arguments! (not sexy stuff but angst-y life stuff) This chapter kinda bangs on about Dawn being ill... that's 'cause I am and I'm unable to be original when it comes to feelings, and I do think that it's important to show that she really is sick, not just skinny. Oooh, and my favourite prop (if that's the right terminology, I got a D in Drama GCSE and dropped out of A Level Drama and Theatre Studies halfway through) makes it's comeback. If anyone wants to buy me one, I'd love them forever!  
A non-vague Disclaimer: I own nothing, Joss is God.

When Dawn opened the door of the motel room she was exhausted, bone-tired seemed the appropriate term. Her body felt like it was covered in bruises and every time she touched something, or something touched her skin seemed to scream out in pain… For what felt like the tenth time that day she resolved to make an appointment at the doctor's. She closed the door and dropped her bag on the floor, walked over to her bed and collapsed under the covers, still fully dressed.

She woke to a scarily animated vampire shaking her shoulder and blowing cigarette smoke in her face.

"Hey, I don't have the whole super-strength thing going for me; I think you're dislocating my shoulder." She said, her voice rough. She took a sip from the diet coke can Spike held out to her and cleared her throat.

"You still up for going to the mall, 'bit?" Spike asked. She sat up and looked around.

"And lose out on all the fun to be had with the ever-absent parent's credit card?" She smiled, trying to seem upbeat despite the fact that her head felt as though it was full of cotton wool… cotton wool that seemed to have razors imbedded at it at fun intervals. She got out of bed and rooted through her bags for a clean change of clothes.

"Are we walking?" She asked, looking for her sneakers. Spike smiled.

"It's a surprise," he drawled, going for cool but coming off as way too exited.

"It's never good when the vampire has surprises in store for you… They usually involve power tools or ritual sacrifice." She joked as she changed her clothes whilst he averted his eyes. Now dressed in a fresh pair of jeans, a grey vest and green cardigan she made her way into the bathroom to touch up her make-up. She applied more concealer underneath the bruise-like circles under her eyes and re-defined them with black eyeliner and mascara. She brushed on some tinted lip-gloss and pushed her hair out of her face, grimacing at the feeling of her freezing fingers touching her face. They left the room, puffing on cigarettes as usual and made their way out to the car-park. They stopped beside a familiar DeSoto.

"When did you get this back?" Dawn asked, smiling at the paint-smeared windows and almost- destroyed body.

"Before I woke you up… The guy I lost it to took a bit of persuasion, but I persuaded him." He replied as he opened the door for her. She slid in and he closed it and circled the car to get to the driver's side.

"I figured that you'd need something to drive around in, since you don't have the Scoobies for a taxi service anymore." He grinned, handing her a spare set of keys.

"Really? 'Cause my dad gives Willow money for gas." She asked, taking the keys and smiling.

"Yes really. Now buckle up and sort out the stereo, I need something loud to drive to." He said, neglecting to do up his own seatbelt and starting the car, making a screeching turn out of the car park.

Fifteen minutes (and a lot of ran red-lights) later they were walking through the automatic doors of the Sunnydale Mall.

"Food court first?" Spike asked, not waiting for a response as they walked through the mall. They secured a table at a decent-looking restaurant and Spike flagged down a waitress.

"Can I get a hamburger without the bun or vegetables?" He asked, smiling at the pretty blond whom Dawn judged to be about thirty. Despite herself, she smirked at the fact that the adult was working in food service.

"'Bit, what do you want?" Spike's voice interrupted the telling-off she was giving herself for being bitchy. She looked blankly down at the menu and felt sick.

"Um, I'm really not…." She started to make an excuse but seeing Spike's look she gave up. "Can I get the mixed-leaf salad? Hold the croutons, dressing on the side. And a diet Pepsi."

"Don't you want some meat with that? Or bread, do you want some garlic bread?" The waitress asked, looking concerned. Dawn tried to smile as she itched to tell the waitress to leave her alone.

"I'm not so hungry," she settled on saying. After shooting another glance at Dawn's protruding collarbone the waitress left, leaving her alone with Spike.

"I just don't get hungry anymore." Dawn said, after Spike gave her a searching look. He decided to drop the and they talked about inconsequential things, movies that they had recently seen, bands they liked, the conversation coming to a stand-still when Dawn pushed her almost-full plate away. Spike looked at it and raised his eyebrows.

"I'm full." Dawn said, not letting any emotion into her voice.

"What? From the three lettuce leaves you swallowed and the three glasses of diet Pepsi you drank?" He asked, disappointed. He held tight to his glass, itching to hold her hand but knowing that she would just pull away.

"Would you rather I threw up? 'Cause that's what happens when I try to eat when I'm not hungry."

"How can you not be hungry, Dawn?" In the past four days all I've seen you eat was a couple of spoonfuls of fat-free yogurt and those lettuce leaves." Spike said the glass in his hand shattering.

"God, Spike, it's not like I have an eating disorder!" Dawn raised her voice and stood up, pushing her chair back and grabbing her bag from beneath the table. Her head ached with the sudden movement and her eyes took a while to focus. "Spike, I can't do this right now, I'll meet you back at the motel later, I need to clear my head." Dawn said, walking out of the restaurant-area, leaving Spike with glass stuck in his bleeding hand. People whispered about her as she left. She could make out one older couple's conversation.

"He should really get her some help."

"He's not more than twenty five himself; the parents really should take some responsibility."

Dawn rolled her eyes at this and made her way out of the food court and up the escalators, vaguely thinking that clothes shopping would distract her.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: This chapter is short but I'm gonna put up another in about an hour :) Sorry about the lack of real medical knowledge- I've only been in real hospital treatment for bulimia so my knowledge of anorexia is limited. :/ I would like to point out that Dawn is not suffering from Anorexia Nervosa (the traditional eating disorder)... It is more that, as she's depressed, she doesn't get hungry alot and food makes her feel ill. To an extent she's punishing herself but it's more subconscious, if that makes sense, she really doesn't get hungry and the thought of most foodstuffs makes her feel ill. Sorry, I wasn't sure if that was clear in the previous chapters.  
In the next chapter (or at most, the one after that) there will be proper Spawnage :D squee  
A not-so-vague Disclaimer- I own nothing, Joss Whedon does.

Spike pushed open the door of the hospital room, ignoring the Scoobies sitting outside. Though he didn't breathe, the sight he was greeted with made him take a sharp inward breath. Dawn was lying in the bed, dressed in a hospital gown that hung off her, making her look like a child and various tubes and wires seeming to go in and out of her skin. She was unconscious and it looked like her glamour had completely faded, her skin was deathly white with a bluish tinge to it, her arms were covered in marks from where she had cut or burned herself, all in various degrees of healing, some barely scabbed over but most were raised silvery-red marks, in great contrast to her skin. She was thin, he had seen that before but now it was more pronounced around her face. Her make-up had not been marred and it seemed strange to see sooty black eye-liner on what looked more like a corpse than a seventeen-year-old girl. He reached down to touch her arm and ran his fingers down the almost serrated skin, worse than that feeling was the cold that was almost radiating from her, despite the blankets covering her. He could hear the slow, uneven rhythm of her heartbeat and could see that every breath she was taking was putting pressure on her chest, pressure that she couldn't cope with. He took one more sweeping look at her and left the room, where he was greeted by the Scoobies.

"What did you do to her?" He said, in an even tone. The group looked at each other as if unaware of how to reply.

"What did we? She did this to herself!" Xander replied, finally.

"She was fourteen when she was put into your custody. She was just a child."

"We did all we could," Willow said, as if she wanted to move the conversation alone. It was too late; Spike was looking at Xander as though he was considering biting him, or at least maiming him.

"You did all you could?" He shouted at them all. "If you couldn't look after her you could have sent her to live with her father. At least he had the sense of mind to get her counselling after everything that happened."

"Yeah, and we got her to go. What else could we have done?" Xander said with his fists clenched.

"You could have watched her." Spike said, taking a step back from them, trying to control himself.

"She had a whole load of glamours on herself." Willow argued, looking both very young and very old (weary was probably the best way to describe it) at the same time.

"Oh, that's alright then! It's not like you don't have experience in those areas!" Spike said sarcastically. "The glamours she had on her only hid the marks to people who didn't know that they were there, who weren't looking close enough to see them. Not people who are supposed to be her guardians."

"Can we stop, now?" Tara said, standing between Spike and Willow. "The doctor wants to talk to us."

With that the group seemed to calm down. They both walked over to the female doctor and listened to her with the air of those who were completely uneducated in medicine.

"Dawn's suffering from extreme malnutrition. Her body is, in effect shutting down. From the marks on her body I would guess that she suffered from some form of eating disorder, most likely anorexia nervosa."

"But she'll be okay? They have clinics for that, right?" Willow asked, her face filled with childlike hurt.

"In normal cases, she would probably be able to recover for the most part, physically, at least. But this is an extreme circumstance; it's a marvel that she was walking around at all with her body in this state. It looks as if her organs are in a very bad state. In all likeliness, if she does wake up, she will probably die of organ failure within the next month or so."

"If she wakes up?" Xander asked. "So she might not?"

"It's unlikely. I'm going to have to advise you to prepare for the worst."

They stared at her, all unsure of what to say. Finally Spike spoke.

"I'm going to sit with her 'till morning." He said, and walked back into the room. He pulled a chair up next to her bed and sank down onto it, in shock.

By the time he was back at the motel he knew what he had to do.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: As promised, here's chapter 11. It's a little short but I needed to cut somewhere, 'cause the next chapter is going to be rather involved/ long. Review and give me advice, particularly on the ethical issues that may come up (you'll understand when you read the chapter).  
A not-so-vague Disclaimer: I own nothing, all belongs to Joss Whedon, to do with as he wishes, though I would hope that he'd ask first.

That day he made the necessary calls to Los Angeles. By the mid-afternoon Willow had called to tell him that Dawn had died. She had cried over the phone, in a voice that made her seem like a child, not an incredibly powerful witch. He went to the Summers house where all of the Scoobies were gathered and each mourning and feeling powerless. Spike itched to tell them what was really happening but stopped himself, reminding himself that they would not let him carry out his plan if they knew, and that, in the end, they had failed Buffy. Everyone but Spike had failed Buffy. He stayed for as long as was necessary, chain-smoking in the living room, for the first time not told off. He left Sunnydale in the DeSoto, bringing with him all of Dawn's belongings from the motel room and some pictures he had taken from her dresser. The music he chose for the journey was a lot more subdued than he was used to, songs about losing everything and saying goodbyes. Part of him felt like he was going to a funeral.

When he came to Angel's apartment he was led inside by Cordelia Chase, a girl that he had only ever met in passing before. She spoke to him in hushed tones; she had been a friend of Buffy's and still saw Dawn as the younger sister. They walked through the apartment and into a large bedroom, inside which lay the still-unconscious Dawn, surrounded by the equipment from the hospital. Angel was sat in a chair next to her, his eyes fixed on her face. He looked up at Spike.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, keeping his voice down as if he was afraid of waking her up. Spike's blue eyes locked on his grandsire's brown ones.

"I promised Buffy." He said, not looking away. Angel stared at him for a minute before he looked away. He removed all of the tubes and wires from Dawn's body and stood back, allowing Spike to get closer to her. He lifted her so that he could get a good grip on her body and she slumped against him. He brushed her hair to one side, away from her neck and paused, as if he was psyching himself up to doing it. With a deep breath he clamped onto her neck with his teeth and drank from her. He was careful only to take what was needed for the transformation, unwilling to risk any complications. When he had finished drinking he held his wrist in front of his mouth. He bit into the veins so that they bled and put his wrist to Dawn's mouth. For a moment she was still unmoving and both vampires were sure that they had been too late in transforming her. But her mouth began to move, sucking down the blood without opening her eyes or moving the rest of her body. When she had had enough Spike tucked her back under the covers, conscious that she needed to rest for the next twelve hours for the change to take place.

They left her to rest alone; she wouldn't be awake for hours, at least. Angel led him to the living room and gave him a drink.

"You need to tell me what happened." He said, sitting in the seat across from Spike. It took the next twelve hours for Spike to explain everything that had happened to Angel. It was strange, he had always been so irritated by Angel, (or, indeed, Angelus) but it seemed that that had been because they had always been vying for the same women's affections. Sure he found the older vampire a bit overly- serious but that seemed to come with the whole having-a-soul-after-killing-countless-people package. Although they disagreed on some points of the past few years, Angel could understand Spike's motivations and was willing to help him, for Dawn's sake. They skirted around how Dawn was going to turn out, what her and Spike were going to do when she was well enough to leave the apartment, not wanting to vocalize the risk that she would come out of the transformation a monster, a demon. They didn't want to think about what they would have to do if she started killing humans.

When exactly eleven hours and forty-five had passed, a scream filled the apartment.


End file.
